


The Tulip Thief

by Polomonkey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur's an oddball, Fluff, Forced Hand Holding, Humor, M/M, Merlin kinda digs it, References to Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4201539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tulip Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the5leggedCricket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the5leggedCricket/gifts).



> A fill for my trope bingo square 'forced proximity', and for Cricket, who wanted a fic based on [this](http://awful-aus.tumblr.com/post/116941769918/awful-au-196) prompt from the Awful AUs tumblr. I hope you like it!

Merlin knows he shouldn’t.

Every week he promises himself that it won’t happen again, that he’ll put a bit of extra money by and visit the nice florist on Foss Street. But then Sunday rolls around and his money’s gone on food and bills and bus fare, and he just can’t justify spending eight quid on a perfectly wrapped bunch of peonies. So he always ends up on the route to the cemetery that leads him past the thatched roof cottage at the corner of Park Road.

The first time he passed by the garden, he was in awe. Merlin only moved back to his home town three months ago, and the thatched cottage had stood in disrepair since his childhood. The garden was straggly and overgrown with weeds; littered with cans and other refuse. But the first time he walked past it since he arrived back in town, he literally stopped in his tracks. The sloping lawn that ran down from the house to the street was neatly trimmed and perfectly rectangular. There was a bird bath and a love-seat and a few stone ornaments dotted around.

But the truly impressive part was the flowers. They were everywhere the eye could see: rose bushes blooming in pink and white, clematis creeping up the trellises, sunflowers stretching towards the sky. Blue hydrangeas, purple lavender, orange chrysanthemums, and dozens more he didn’t even know the name of. Merlin was no gardener but he appreciated beauty when he saw it. 

He knew it was wrong to steal. But he’d been travelling for nearly a year and his mum’s grave had gone neglected all that time. He had to make up for all the days it had stood empty. And some cheap blossoms from Tesco Express wouldn’t do. His mum deserved the best.

This garden had the best.

And he only took one or two. From corners of the garden hidden from the street, so at least they might not be missed as much. He had no idea who the current occupant of the house was but they hadn’t objected yet. Maybe they didn’t even notice.

Still, he resolves that today will be his last day doing it. A twenty three year old man couldn’t really be seen to be nicking flowers from what was probably some nice old lady’s garden. It was unseemly.

With that in mind, he steps over the tiny hedge separating the garden from the street and looks around. His heart skips a beat when he sees that the tulips are finally opening up. Tulips were his mum’s very favourite flower. She used to fill the house with them. Then when she got sick other people brought them for her. It wasn’t the same but a tulip could at least still raise a smile, even towards the very end.

He’s hit by a sudden wave of longing, strong enough to take his breath away. The sight of the tulips, dancing gently in the breeze, conjures up an image of his mother so powerful that it’s almost as though she’s here beside him. He imagines her reaching out to touch one, rubbing the petals between her fingers. The pink one perhaps… no, yellow. Yellow tulips were her favourite, always.

As if in a trance, he reaches out to pluck the first one from the soil. And then a hand closes round his arm.

“Caught in the act!” says a triumphant voice and he looks up in a panic.

It’s not the nice old lady he imagined in his guiltier moments. It’s not even a nice middle aged lady. It’s a man not much older than himself. A man with bright blue eyes and soft blonde hair… and a painfully strong grip.

“Get off!” he says, managing to sound indignant despite his currently rather dubious claim on the moral high ground.

“Let go of the flower first,” the man rejoinders.

Merlin opens his hand immediately, and the man loosens his grip. But he doesn’t let go. Merlin wonders if he’s about to get thumped but the man’s not even looking at him anymore. He’s peering down at the tulips with a silly expression on his face.

“Poor babies. Did the nasty thief scare you? I’ve caught him now; he won’t be bothering you again,” he croons.

Merlin gapes.

“Are you actually talking to the plants? Is that a thing that’s happening right now?”

The man straightens up, not looking in the least embarrassed.

“Plants need love to grow, everyone knows that. What they don’t need is to be ripped out of the ground by some common vagabond.”

“I’m not a vagabond!” Merlin protests, though he’s not even sure what a vagabond is.

The man surveys him.

“No, you’re too old for that. In fact you’re far too old to be stealing flowers at all.”

Merlin can’t deny that.

“You knew all along?”

“Of course I knew,” the man says irritably. “You think I just threw some seed packets on the ground and hoped for the best? I planted every single flower and plant in this garden by hand, so you better believe I notice when one goes missing.”

Merlin feels a twinge of guilt. This garden clearly had taken a lot of time and effort. It’s a bit late for an apology but Merlin feels he should offer one.

“I’m really sorry.”

“So you should be. You’re not even a good thief. You could have cut them properly so they’d have some hope of growing back next year, instead of just yanking them out of the ground.”

“Are you critiquing my methods of theft?” Merlin says, baffled.

“Well, someone needs to. If you insist on continuing with this horticultural crime spree.”

“Look, I really apologise. I’ll never do it again, I swear. Can you let go of my arm now please?” Merlin says.

The man considers for a moment.

“No.”

“No? Are we just gonna stand here forever?”

“I assumed the person stealing my flowers was some teenager playing a prank. But you’re too old for that. Which leads me to wonder… why would you need flowers so regularly?”

“Because I’m skint!” Merlin says, exasperated.

“Yes, I got that from the outfit,” the man says snidely. “But that’s why you had to _steal_ flowers, not why you actually need them in the first place.”

Merlin’s about to open his mouth and tell the whole truth for once in his life, but the man gets in first.

“It’s a girl!” he exclaims, looking very pleased with himself.

“Eh?”

“You’ve been nabbing my flowers to give to some girl, haven’t you?”

Merlin shakes his head vigorously but the man laughs.

“And now you’re embarrassed. So would I be, if I was going courting a girl in those raggedy jeans.”

“Okay, first of all no-one has used the word ‘courting’ since 1882, and second of all-”

“I suppose it’s sweet, in a way. Or it would be, it they weren’t my flowers.”

His hand suddenly tightens on Merlin’s arm.

“I do hope she enjoyed those orchids that took me nearly a year to grow properly.”

His expression is dark and Merlin gulps.

“I’m really sorry about that one. If it’s any consolation-”

He’s about to say that the orchids looked beautiful propped against his mother’s grave and end this farce, but the man interrupts him.

“She loved them? Why wouldn’t she, they were perfect. I’d like to meet this girl who’s been deemed worthy of such bountiful gifts.”

He pauses, like an idea’s struck him.

“Actually I think I will.”

“Will what?”

“Meet her.”

“Er, that might be quite difficult because-”

“Don’t worry, we won’t go empty handed,” the man says scathingly. And, keeping a hold on Merlin’s arm, he reaches down to snap off three yellow tulips.

“See? Nice clean cut through the stem. Something to remember next time you do this, although it better not be in my bloody garden.”

He thrusts them into Merlin’s hand and then gestures towards the street.

“Right. Lead on, then.”

“Lead on where?” Merlin says, struggling to keep up with this clearly insane man and his increasingly arbitrary train of thought.

“This is your punishment. You’re going to take me to meet this girl and I’m going to tell her where all your thoughtful gifts have really been from. See if she still wants to be with you then.”

“Yeah but the thing is, there is no-”

“My mind’s made up!” the man says merrily. “This is the perfect penance for you.”

“But I wasn’t-”

“Stop stalling,” the man trills. “Be grateful I’m not calling the police.”

Merlin gives up. If he can’t tell the man, he’ll just have to show him. Hopefully he’ll garner a bit of sympathy in the process and escape further reprimand.

“Fine,” he says, attempting to throw his hands up in the air and being pulled up short by the man’s grip. “Can you at least let go of my arm, please?”

“So you can run off? Not a chance,” the man says, steering him out into the street. He looks positively gleeful at this turn of events. Definitely not quite right in the head, this one.

“But it’s hurting,” Merlin whines and the man looks thoughtful.

“Fair enough, I suppose even thieves have rights. Geneva Convention and all that.”

Then to Merlin’s absolute horror, the man drops his arm only to take hold of his hand instead.

“What are you doing?” Merlin hisses, trying to pull back.

“I have to keep a hold on you, and this won’t hurt,” the man shrugs.

“Yeah but we’re… we’re holding hands, for God’s sake!”

“So?”

“People will think we’re a couple,” Merlin says frantically, looking down the street to see if anyone’s already spotted them.

“And? Are you a homophobe or something?”

“No! I date men!”

“You can date men and still be a homophobe,” the man says reasonably and Merlin takes a moment to wonder if this is the single most annoying human being he’s ever come in contact with. “I definitely dated a homophobic guy once.”

“Yes, thanks for the sociology lesson. I am not homophobic, I just don’t want to hold hands with someone I just met, and who, frankly, seems a few sandwiches short of a picnic!”

“What an odd expression,” the man remarks. “How many sandwiches would a successful picnic have to have, in your estimation?”

Merlin feels like wringing his hands in despair, only he can’t, of course, because this guy’s holding one of them.

“Fine, whatever! Let’s just get this over with. And by the way, the Geneva Convention is for times of war, not people who’ve pinched a couple of pansies from a frankly overstuffed garden.”

“You’re very touchy,” the man says calmly. “I should really be the touchy one, considering it’s my flowers you’ve been stealing.”

“Listen… man…”

“It’s Arthur,” the man says helpfully.

“Listen, Arthur-”

“What’s your name?”

“Merlin. I-”

“Arthur and Merlin. That’s funny.”

“Yeah, it’s hilarious. I need to tell you-”

“I’ve never met a Merlin before.”

“Right. We’re not actually going to-”

“I haven’t met many people in this town actually. I mean I’ve been here nearly two years, but I commute for work, and I get back quite late, so…”

Merlin’s about to protest his treatment again, but something in Arthur’s tone stops him.

“What about weekends?” he says, curious.

“I’m usually catching up on work from the week. The City never sleeps, as my father is fond of reminding me. After that I only have enough free time to tend to the garden.”

Arthur doesn’t sound self-pitying but Merlin feels a bit bad all the same. Especially when he considers the fact that he’s been messing with the only thing this guy has for leisure time.

“Maybe you should try cutting out of work early some days?” he says tentatively. “There’s a few decent pubs in town, and the locals are pretty friendly.”

“Yeah? Have you lived here long?”

“I grew up here,” Merlin says. “But I went away for uni and then… other stuff. I only came back a few months ago.”

He doesn’t want to talk about any of the time in between. How he cut uni short to come home and care for his mum. How he was so lost and angry after she died that he had to leave the country before he broke down for good.

He fiddles one handed with the tulips instead and Arthur gives him a sidelong look.

“This girl we’re going to see. Is she pretty?”

Merlin thinks of his mum; the wispy brown hair she used to tuck behind her ears, her warm blue eyes.

“Very,” he says wistfully.

“Nice, too?”

“The nicest.”

“Tell me about her.”

Merlin pauses, remembering.

“Amazing cook. Used to put together the strangest of recipes but they’d come out perfect. Really good at DIY too. Always playing Enya CDs. Dancing round the kitchen. Making me dance with her, even though I have two left feet.”

He feels an unexpected lump in his throat and he coughs to clear it. 

“And I’m guessing she loves flowers?”

“Yes. Especially tulips.”

Merlin thinks of the end; how he sat by the bed with his mother’s hand clasped in his. Making sure there were always fresh flowers in the vase next to her, so she had something nice to look at.

He’s still doing that, he suddenly realises. Still leaving these flowers for his mum to see. Hoping somehow, somewhere, they’re making her happy.

Arthur doesn’t ask any more questions; just lets Merlin lead him up the road. The hand in his own has somehow ceased to be weird, it’s actually vaguely comforting for reasons he can’t quite understand.

When they reach the cemetery gate Arthur pauses, uncertain, but follows Merlin through. Perhaps he thinks they’re taking a short cut, although there can be no doubt when Merlin takes him off the main path and through the trees to where the newer graves are.

When Merlin finally stops in front of her headstone, Arthur lets out a little exhale of air, and drops Merlin’s hand.

“Shit. Were these… have you been bringing them here the whole time?”

“I did try to explain,” Merlin says simply. 

“God, I’m really sorry. I thought you were just embarrassed. I didn’t think-”

Arthur looks miserable and Merlin turns to smile at him. He doesn’t want Arthur to feel bad. There’s something about being here that always grounds him, makes him peaceful. Ready to make amends.

“No, it wasn’t your fault. I never should have been nicking your flowers in the first place.”

He gestures at the grave.

“She wouldn’t have approved.”

“Is that your mum?” Arthur says softly.

“Yeah. Year and a half ago, now. Cancer.”

He looks over at the sweet williams in the little vase.

“I wanted her to have nice flowers. And yours were so… But I shouldn’t have taken them.”

“I don’t mind,” Arthur says, and his voice is hoarse. “I mean, I do, but… if I’d known the reason. I’d have just given them to you.”

“Really?” Merlin says, trying not to sound sceptical.

“Of course,” Arthur says. “Flowers are for the benefit of everyone. Why do you think the hedge between my garden and the street is so tiny? The estate agent told me I could grow it for privacy but I want people to look in and feel cheered by the colours. Enjoy the blooms. I cut them for my own house, I wouldn’t mind cutting them for other people’s.”

He glances at Merlin.

“Not the orchids though, they’re too damn finicky to just give away.”

Merlin laughs.

“I can tell I’ll be apologising for the orchid theft for a long time.”

“Yes you will,” Arthur agrees but he’s smiling. “Well go on, then.”

“What?”

“Put the tulips in the vase.”

“Right.”

Merlin hovers, unsure of himself.

“I just… I usually sit down and… have a chat.”

“Okay,” Arthur says, and to Merlin’s great surprise, he folds himself down to sit on the grass.

He catches Merlin’s expression and says:

“Unless it’s private and you want me to go.”

“Er, no, it’s fine,” Merlin says, sitting down himself. “I usually just tell her about my week so…”

It’s strange that Arthur’s sat there listening, but no stranger than anything else that’s happened today so Merlin turns to remove the sweet williams and places the tulips in the vase.

“Hey Mum,” he says softly. “How are you? I’m doing fine. I got a job with Gaius at the surgery; he’s letting me do some filing. It’s not much money but with that and the ushering work, I should scrape by a bit better.”

He’s very aware of Arthur and it seems odd to ignore him when it’s no doubt the biggest news from this week.

“I have a confession, Mum. I’ve been stealing flowers for you. Before you get mad, you’ll be pleased to know I got caught today. This is Arthur and he’s given me a suitably hard time about the whole thing.”

Arthur leans forward.

“Hello Hunith. I am indeed giving your son a hard time, but only because he deserves it. And since he seems to have learned his lesson, he won’t have to steal any more from me. I’ll have a nice bunch waiting for him on Sundays that he can pick up on the way here.”

Merlin looks over at that.

“What, really?”

“I told you, flowers are for the benefit of everyone. And your mum seems very deserving. I’m an Enya fan myself.”

Merlin can’t help but grin at the warmth in Arthur’s eyes. The man’s an odd duck, for sure, but he’s got a kind heart.

His next words slip out of his mouth almost unbidden.

“Maybe after I come here on Sundays, we could go into town? I can show you the hotspots; which basically consist of a WH Smith’s and a funny looking tree stump.”

He’s instantly worried he’s overstepped. Arthur’s probably just being nice about the flowers; it doesn’t mean he wants to actually spend time with Merlin.

But to his relief, Arthur looks gratified. And a little bit hopeful, if he’s not mistaken.

“I’d like that,” he says.

They stay and chat with his mum a while longer, and then wander back to the road.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from your work,” Merlin says.

“Screw it, I shouldn’t have to work on a Sunday anyway,” Arthur says and then looks surprised at himself.

“True,” Merlin nods. “So maybe… I could come back to your house and make you dinner? As an apology for my – what did you call it? – ‘horticultural crime spree’?”

Arthur regards him for a second.

“I don’t have much food in the house.”

“I’m good at making something out of nothing,” Merlin says. “My mum taught me how.” 

Arthur smiles, and it lights up his whole face.

“In that case, I’ll gladly take you up on your offer.”

“You won’t regret it,” Merlin promises, and slips his hand back into Arthur’s, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! While you're here, check out Cricket's Merlin fic rec [blog](http://merlinrecs.livejournal.com/), it's very cool.


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